The Scarecrow
by theresnomeaning
Summary: When Severus Snape found out that Harry Potter was in a mental institution he could never imagine what fate - or Dumbledore - had put on his hands, and on Draco Malfoy's heart. Eventual SLASH HP/DM and Guardian Snape. Warnings inside.
1. Unnatural Selection

_**Summary: **__When Severus Snape found out that Harry Potter was in a mental institution he could never imagine what fate - or Dumbledore - had put on his hands, and on Draco Malfoy's heart. SLASH HP/DM. _

_**Warnings: **__this story will contain sensitive themes and graphic descriptions of child abuse and torture (if you are a reader of one of my other stories, Am I Evil, you can have an idea of what happens here, though I think this one is way more distressing). I usually don't feel bothered when reading/writing torture scenes (I do feel that way in angsty texts) and thus sometimes I write things with which I'm totally all right and I don't know if most people feel the same way (I have a friend that can't stand the idea of reading something with the slightest physical distress, for example)._

_If you feel bothered by those, do not progress (this chapter contains neither of them, but the story is rated M for a reason, keep that in mind)._

_I have another four WIPs, and some of them I update more regularly than others. I can *almost* (almost because we can never predict the future) guarantee that I will update The Scarecrow at least once each month._

_This story will contain SLASH. Main pairing: HP/DM, but it will take a while for it to happen. If it bothers you, I repeat, do not progress._

_Lastly, since I mentioned Am I Evil, if you read both stories please don't mix them. There are some similarities between both, but Harry and Dumbledore (who won't be bashed in The Scarecrow) are hugely different here._

_Now, some __**explanations:**_

_Voldemort is gone for good since 1981. Harry is not a Horcrux (the Dark Lord created none of them). _

_Sirius Black is still locked in Azkaban._

_Lucius Malfoy really was under the Imperius during his Death Eater times._

**Chapter 1 - Unnatural Selection**

"I would pray before going in," the woman said, shuddering. Severus scoffed.

"I don't believe in God, Ms. Smith," he dryly replied and the woman looked at him as though he was a silly child.

"I don't either, but when you are about to meet the Devil..." she trailed off and opened the door. Ms. Smith did not get in the room, instead only stared at Severus, daring him to enter the room 61. He snorted and stepped in. Damn Albus for forcing him to do this! Why couldn't he come and see his beloved boy-who-lived... Oh yes, because the bastard old man used those two words - 'For Lily' - and he couldn't resist.

The room wasn't what he was expecting. Not at all. Smith had told him that there were drawings on the walls, grim ones. But the walls looked perfectly white, clean. The room smelled like cinnamon. That was odd, but Severus didn't think about that too much. There was a white rug on the floor. It was fluffy and soft. His eyes travelled around the room. There was a lamp on a small table and there was a bed made of iron in a corner. It was a small bed, and even smaller was the figure lying there.

Harry Potter had an ebony hair that fell on his shoulders, with soft waves along its length. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping. His hands were tense, and his breath shallow. His skin was very, very white, translucent so. It was a contrast with his black hair and red lips. He was thin, a bit underweight, perhaps. There were several restraints on his body - four on each leg, three on each arm, one over his hips, another on his stomach, and finally one on his forehead, what incapacitated him of moving his head. His bed was half lifted, so he was in a position half-sitting, half-lying.

Surely, the nurses and the doctor had said that he was a difficult patient - what would you expect from a Potter? - but was all of that really needed?

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry's eyes snapped open. Green eyes that bore the color of the Avada Kedrava curse. Those two orbs stared at Severus, analyzing him, scrutinizing. Severus felt a pressure in between his eyes and looked away immediately. What the hell? Potter was legilimizing him? He quickly put up his shields - that were down, since Severus would never dream that he would need them there.

"You are different from the other ones. Couldn't look into your head," Potter said with a raspy voice. "Who are you and what do you want?" he added dryly.

"My name is Severus Snape, I am a psychiatrist, I am here to—"

Harry chuckled, the sound horrible, a bit unnatural.

"To help me?" Harry cut him off. "I don't need help. I don't know why nobody understands this, God knows I gave them hints about it."

"About what?"

Harry's laugh stopped and he only smiled wickedly.

"About the fact that who needs help is anyone who enters this room, not me."

"Why do you say that?"

Harry chuckled.

"Didn't they tell you the stories? I would be very hurt if my efforts were in vain. I mean, I did do some things to earn a rather tainted reputation. But I'm beginning to think that you believe that all the stories aren't real. Didn't they say to avoid looking me in the eyes?"

Actually, Smith had told him, but Severus had scoffed at that. What harm could Potter do?

"But perhaps your were already aware that you are somewhat immune to my mind tricks. No worries, I will find something else."

Severus sat on a chair that was near the door and stared at Potter. Right in the eyes; trying to legilimize the boy.

"No, no, no, Mr. Snape. I won't have you in my mind," Harry said with a patronizing voice, like a mother reprehending a child. "You are very different from the others. Perhaps it will be worth to listen to you, after all."

"It's not like you can make me stop talking, Potter."

"Sarcasm! Oh, I love sarcasm. The other psychiatrists weren't sarcastic. They were very boring if you ask me. Some of the nurses don't understand when I'm being sarcastic either. It is so tiresome to live among these morons."

Snape, for his part, wasn't believing what his eyes were seeing. Harry Potter, Lily's son, wasn't supposed to be like that.

"What are you thinking of, Mr. Snape?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"The last answer to the same question that I got was a tale about a boy with a sad life that ended up a bit mad. I guess the doctor wanted me to relate to the story. I like your answer better, you are right, it is not my business."

Snape folded his arms on the chest and watched Potter. The boy didn't look like a fifteen year old. His physical appearance was of a third, perhaps even a second year. He blamed that on the treatment Harry received on that clinic - probably not ideal. However, the boy had the eyes of an older person, and spoke like one too. His words were odd, because he shouldn't speak like that if he was stuck in that hospital for five years without proper education.

"What part of the stories are true?" Severus asked.

Harry licked his lips as though he was going to talk about a savoring thing.

"Depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On the perspective."

Severus snorted. The brat sounded like Dumbledore... Well, not exactly. Albus was enigmatic, not creepy enigmatic. Harry smiled and continued to speak.

"From my perspective only the part in which they off themselves is true. However, from theirs..."

Narrowing his eyes, Severus stared at Harry's eyes again, but did not use Legilimency this time. Eyes so much like Lily's, but without her happiness and kindness. That was unnerving.

"So it is true that you killed three people?"

"Of course not!" Harry said quickly. "They killed themselves."

"Because you did something to cause them to feel so despe—"

"No. I did not kill them. It was their choice. Natural selection, Mr. Snape. Some of us need to be above others."

"I see. So you presume that whatever happened was a good thing?"

"I told you it was natural."

Severus nodded. He wanted to talk more with Potter, but the truth was that he wasn't a psychiatrist and not having prior knowledge to the boy's situation - he really should had paid attention to what Ms. Smith was saying - he didn't know what else to ask. He needed to know exactly what he was dealing with. After some minutes staring at the teenager, Snape stood, mumbled a good bye and left.

When the door was closed Harry smiled, but his eyes were calculating.

"See you soon, Mr. Snape."

.

"Can you tell me more about Mr. Potter, Ms. Smith?" Severus asked the brown haired muggle as soon as he saw her after leaving Harry's room.

The woman sighed and stared at the mug of coffee she had on her hands. Taking a deep breath, she began to speak.

"As I've already told you, he makes us see things. I know you don't believe me, probably, but this is true. He did this to me. I saw my deepest fears..." she shivered and shook her head, as though trying g to shoo away the memory "He did this to almost everyone. But to the three that... _Died_ it was worse. It didn't stop like with the rest of us. Dr. Neesson, one of the dead, said before shooting himself 'I've told you, Dr. Neesson, this is the only way.' We've tried to transfer him, but no one accepts him, and some people tried to get him arrested for what he did, but the judge didn't believe that he actually caused those three to commit suicide."

Severus nodded and signed for her to go on. He snorted mentally at the idea of someone in the muggle world being arrested by having caused a person to commit suicide. It was ludicrous. Muggles couldn't prove any mental influence...

"And then he made those horrible drawings that are on the walls of his room..."

Snape frowned. That subject was an odd one. There was nothing on the walls.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Smith, but the walls were quite clean."

The woman looked at him horrified, and seemed about to cry.

"They were?" she questioned with trembling lips and fearful eyes. He merely nodded. "Oh, God!"

Severus gave the woman some minutes to calm herself before asking her to continue - again.

"Sometimes he stays in there laughing, it is creepy. Sometimes he makes some sounds, like a hiss or something like that... I don't really like to be near him when he is awake."

Hisses? Severus shivered slightly when he thought that it could be parseltongue.

"And has he always been like that?"

"No. He hasn't. At first he was a quiet boy, very shy and loner. Nobody knows what caused him to become like that. I used to feed him, you know... Before. I-I did like him, but I can't help but feel afraid of what he does and what he says."

"I intend to keep working with Mr. Potter, Ms. Smith; it is an interesting case. I shall need his files so I can study them and come more prepared on the next time."

Ms. Smith looked greatly relieved that Severus accepted work with the boy. He took pity on he woman. Muggles didn't know what they were dealing with... Not that he had much more idea about what the hell was wrong with Harry Potter, but any wizard with some respectable knowledge of magic would know that Harry Potter invaded other's minds using Legilimency - and not some demonic, supernatural, freaky thing... On a second thought Severus reckoned that muggles might just consider magic all of those things.

The woman stood and walked into an office. When she came back there was a file on her hands.

"Here it is," she said, giving him the file. "It's all about his case."

Severus examined the papers and nodded.

"Just one thing, Ms. Smith," she looked at him, waiting for the question. "Did anyone give Potter Biology books?"

"Yes, I did. I still do. You see... I fear and I may not even like him, but Harry doesn't deserve to be locked all day doing nothing. My husband is a biologist and I brought Harry some of his books. Why?"

"He just told me something that showed his knowledge about Biology."

Ms. Smith smiled faintly at that.

.

Severus was back at Hogwarts, on his chambers, and reading everything there was about Harry Potter. It was odd: Harry had been put on the clinic when he was ten years old - just right about the time when he should have received his Hogwarts' letter. For the first year he had been very shy, quiet and terrified of his own shadow. Then, after that, strange things began to happen. People would have visions, Harry would began to shout and trash - what resulted on the boy being drugged frequently - and some employees refused to be near him.

Then, one of his psychiatrists was killed on their third session, and two nurses were killed too. Well, they killed themselves, but because they were seeing things Potter wanted them to see. Horrifying things, most probably.

Severus actually pitied Dumbledore at that moment. More than five years looking for the boy and when they did find him... Well, he was a bit, shall we say, damaged - or _damaging_.

He stalked towards the Headmasters office with a copy of Harry's files and a vial filled with his memory of the meeting with Harry Potter and his conversation with Ms. Smith as well. It was one of those things that you can't simply describe.

Severus also didn't know what to feel about Harry Potter. He had sworn to protect the brat, yes, for Lily... But he was also Potter's spawn - and that did cloud Snape's judgement. Of course, during all those years he imagined that Harry would be an obnoxious, arrogant, self righteous boy. He wasn't that, apparently. _But_ he wasn't much better either.

For Merlin! Potter needed help. There was something wrong, very wrong with him, and not just the killing people thing. Something that affected the troubled teenager deeper than that. And Severus had a bad feeling that Dumbledore would want _him_ to sort it out.

"Toblerone," Severus muttered the password to he gargoyle. Just what the hell was Toblerone?

"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully.

"Good evening, Headmaster. I brought you the memory of my meeting with Potter and a copy of his medical files," Snape said putting said things on Albus' desk.

"A memory, Severus? Do you already dislike the child that much that you can't even talk about him?"

Severus snorted.

"I believe you should really watch my memory," _Or you could accuse me of being lying about a saint Potter_. He added mentally.

"Very well," Albus waved his wand and summoned his pensieve. "I shall watch your memory, Severus. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"You offer me these things day after day and day after day I refuse."

"Well, I did get Minerva to accept one some weeks ago, I guess an old man can only hope. Would you accept a tea, so?"

"Yes, thank you."

Dumbledore called a house elf and asked the creature to bring tea and biscuits - Severus hadn't asked biscuits, mind you!

While Albus watched the memory Severus drank his tea and thought about what he was going to do with Potter. No doubts Dumbledore, in his _infinite wisdom_ would want to bring the boy to Hogwarts - something that could only end badly.

When the headmaster emerged from the pensieve he had a thoughtful look. _Good, no mad twinkling. Perhaps he will not bring Potter here._

"This is very concerning, Severus. Harry seems to be a bit... Unstable. What worries me the most is this ability on mind magic that he seems to posses and the possibility that he is a parselmouth," _Seems to posses? Was the old man daft, thick, dense, stupid?_ "We both know someone who had all these abilities..." he trailed off and Severus shifted uneasily, burying memories and feelings of _those_ days deep inside.

"He is dead, Albus!"

"Yes, my boy, he is. However, it may be his magic, a part of it, left behind. I would never imagine that young Harry could be like that, so dark, cold... But if he carries Voldemort's magic inside him it might have corrupted him, making him do things that he didn't want to."

Severus folded his arms and looked at Dumbledore with calculating eyes. Surely he wasn't suggesting that Voldemort was possessing the boy for all hose years?

"When you say his... Magic, you mean that this thing, this power, is sentient and guided the boy into doing those things?"

"No, I don't believe it is sentient, it only is of a dark nature, and influences Harry."

"And he treatment he received in the muggle world most certainly did not help him at all, the woman called him the Devil," Severus said and rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the idea, only in the end, when Dumbledore's eyes flashed with joy, Snape realized that he had said something wrong.

"Yes, yes, Severus, quite right. His treatment was most inadequate. Perhaps, we should change that, no?"

Snape buried his head on his hands and groaned. Dumbledore would want him to bring Potter to Hogwarts and the brat would end up killing - or making someone kill themselves - in the castle. And then he would be given to the Dementors to be kissed. And then he, Severus, would fail his promise. Not that he cared about the boy, but he wasn't about to fail the only person he ever loved in his life.

"I hardly think it is appropriate to bring Potter here!"

"Why, Severus?"

"WHY?" Severus desperately shouted. "Are you blind, deaf? Did those hideous lemon candies you eat affected your brain? Potter is a menace! He can invade people's minds and drive them to the point of despair they have to off themselves to escape, and you ask me why I don't think it is a good idea to bring him here?" Severus stopped to breath before going on his diatribe "Potter is not you beautiful golden boy, Albus! You said yourself that he might have _his_ magic inside him. Do you want a piece of the Dark Lord's power waltzing on the castle? Perhaps we can even have him sorted into Hufflepuff and he will have a lot of friends and we will all live happily ever after!"

Albus watched in silence as Severus talked. When his little speech was finished Albus cleared his throat and began to speak in a calm voice.

"I understand that Harry is not what we all were expecting. I should have known that when I learned that he was in a mental institution. But he can't attack someone who has training in Occlumency, so it wouldn't be a problem if we restrained the contact he has with only people skilled in the mind arts. I don't think it is safe for him to remain where he is, Severus."

Yes, Potter wasn't safe... Not in a place where people thought he was some kind of unnatural creature.

"So, what I propose is that you go and speak with Harry some times, Severus, in the next two weeks. And gain some of his trust, perhaps. Then, we will bring him here and he will be confined in a room - or a series of rooms, since I don't want him feeling like a prisoner, where only you and me will have access. And then we will try to understand what happens to him and solve this as soon as possible."

"I suppose I don't really have a choice," Severus muttered and took the vial with his memory, standing up. "If this is all, Albus, I shall leave."

"This is all. May I know when you intend to visit Harry again?"

"I will see Potter again tomorrow."

"Excellent. Good luck, Severus."

"Luck... God... Why is it that everyone is talking about things I do not believe today?" Severus asked under his breath while he was leaving the headmaster's office. He went directly back to his chambers to prepare the questions he would ask Potter tomorrow. Little Snape knew that those questions would only make him more curious.

.

Harry tossed on his sleep. There was blood, blood everywhere. His dreams were always plagued with blood, green lights, screams and things that hurt. He could remember all of that happening. He could feel that again. He just wanted to wake up and be in a world where people understood him. Where someone told him he was a good boy... But he always messed up, always. And then he was Potter, not Harry.

He wanted them to see Harry, to understand what he needed. But everyone hurt Harry and he couldn't trust them. So he pretended to be Potter, and he hurt people too, before they could smash him in tiny pieces like someone did before.

A low moan escaped his lips and he turned on his side. More blood. Pain, but not his pain. It was good to be on the other side of the pain sometimes, after all.

**Thoughts? **

**P.S.: This chapter isn't beta'd, all mistakes are mine alone. I am not an English native speaker and therefore I can write some pretty weird stuff sometimes (not to mention minor grammar mistakes). I do try my best, though... Just please don't flame me!**

**I am looking for a beta, so this should be solved soon.**


	2. Shell

**Thank you for the reviews!**

**Someone asked if Harry is possessed... Well, I think this chapter answers that - he is not...**

**Chapter 2 - Shell**

Harry was crying. That man knew his secret, and it was so easy to hurt Harry when they knew his secret. Well, it wasn't nothing new, really, he had been discovered by that man some months ago and the pain from that was something the teenager had grown accustomed to. His bad dreams had been interrupted, but that wasn't relieving, because he was thrown in an even worse reality.

Ms. Smith had come earlier and asked if he was hungry. The woman was odd, sometimes she was nice, and sometimes she seemed to be disgusted with him. That was why he couldn't trust other people. He never knew what to expect from them.

And he was tired... Too tired. At least today he wasn't totally restrained, and could move his limbs. He hated being restrained, but he hated the drugs even more. They made him feel out of himself, like there was a parasite eating his brain. Like his soul was going under, and under, and under. And he was also vulnerable while drugged. He had to thank Ms. Smith, Harry knew that it was she who interceded for him, saying that the drugs could be lessened.

He had been informed that Mr. Snape would be there again, and was looking forward to his visit. Curiosity about the man was eating him. Snape was odd, a bit like Harry. His mind couldn't be read and he had also tried to read Harry's. Perhaps he was a freak too, like Uncle Vernon used to say about Harry and his 'unnatural things'.

Harry shook his head. He didn't want to think about Uncle Vernon and his hateful, hurtful words. About his feet, used to kick; and hands used to punch... And to touch. He shuddered at the memory and wondered if someday he would be able to forget that.

Damn it! He was thinking about those old things only because it had happened again. His backside hurt with the little movement Harry made, only to make it more real. He took a deep breath. The smell of the room used to calm him. Cinnamon. It was something he remembered, something that comforted him. He had asked Ms. Smith to make his room smell like that when he was younger, and she did that for him.

He owed her a lot, and honestly felt bad because he'd made her too have nightmares and visions... And she had never hurt him. But he had had to do that. Otherwise the others - the ones who liked to cause him pain - would notice that she was different and take her away from him. Perhaps he had been a bit paranoid - or at least he thought that it was the word, he wasn't sure - but he needed that woman there, or he would be lost forever... So he made her afraid of him, but in a way that she still cared enough to keep her word, and the cinnamon smell. It hurt when she looked at him with fear and disgust, but at least she was a good person.

Harry got up very slowly, but the pain was there anyway, and he winced a bit, hissing when the place between his legs throbbed. He walked in circles on his room, avoiding to look at his bed where the white sheet was stained with crimson blood. Later that man would come and change it, and no one would know what happened there. He just hoped that he wasn't the sharing type - like Dr. Neesson, who brought two men with him.

His breath was becoming shallow as the memories of those days assaulted him.

_"We will take him in both sides," Dr. Neesson said with a sick grin on his face. Harry stared at them fearfully. He was naked and trembling... _

_They touched him in rough ways, squeezing his tights, and his belly, and his buttocks..._

Harry grabbed his hair with both hands and pulled up, trying to do anything to forget that. He couldn't afford to think about that today. He had to be sane - the part of him that was actually 'crazy' - and whole, so Snape wouldn't suspect anything. He just needed to see if the man could be trusted... If he could help him. Harry wondered why the man wanted to talk with him - given that the boy was aware that he wasn't another psychiatrist.

He took deep breaths. That was something he had done since he was little, at the Dursleys. He just needed to breathe properly and then his whole body would stop to act that way. Stop those tremblings and all the signs of weakness. He wasn't weak. He was Potter, a boy who had made three people kill themselves, not Harry, a scared child. Cinnamon. He would ask Ms. Smith if she could bring some pudding with cinnamon. Yes, that would be fine.

.

Severus greeted Ms. Smith and noticed that the woman seemed worried - more than yesterday. He frowned but didn't ask anything. Perhaps she was worrying about other patients, or perhaps she just acted that way when anything was related to Potter.

He had the list of questions he would ask the boy today. They all seemed fair enough for him, and he hoped that the brat wouldn't give him any problems.

He got in the room 61 and saw that Harry wasn't restrained today. He was sitting on the edge on the bed and swinging his legs back and forth, staring at the floor. When he acknowledged Severus' presence, Potter turned and smiled.

"Hello Mr. Snape, good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. Would you mind if I asked you some questions?"

Snape wondered if he was acting a lot out of character for a psychiatrist. Were them that blunt?

"Of course you can. Will you want answers too?"

"Excuse me?" he asked harshly.

"I asked if you just want to question me of if you want me to answer your questions."

Severus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Potter was mocking him. The brat was making fun of him. It was just what he should expect of a Potter, really, he didn't even understand why he was surprised with that.

"You won't talk to me like that, boy!" he spat, using the tone he used to berate some Gryffindor. Harry slightly flinched, but then his eyes shone with something, and he assumed his firm posture again. Snape waited some seconds to see if Potter would apologize, but he didn't. He glared at Harry and began to ask the questions.

"How long do you live here?"

"For God's sake, you know the answer! It is in my fucking file, no doubts. I have my sense of time intact, all right? I am not crazy like some people want to believe."

Snape sighed loudly.

"Why were you brought here?"

"Because my aunt thought I was crazy."

"But it was your uncle who decided to bring you here," Severus argued.

"He wanted Aunt Petunia to be at peace."

"But he didn't think you were crazy?"

"He _knew_ I wasn't," Harry bluntly replied. Severus wrote that down. Perhaps he should look for the Dursleys - who vanished from Britain, apparently - to know more about Potter.

"I see," Severus quietly spoke. "Why did you make those three man kill themselves, Potter?"

The boy looked at him with something foreign on his eyes - perhaps sadness - and gave a little sigh, fidgeting a little.

"I didn't make anything. It wasn't my fault. Why do you believe Ms. Smith and the others anyway? People say that I am crazy, but the lot of you keep believing that I can do freaky things that aren't natural. You are the crazy ones, not me!"

The boy did have a point, but Snape wasn't inclined to talk about magic, Voldemort, or Harry's parents. Yet.

"Sometimes smart people are called crazy."

"Yeah, this is stupid..."

"But why do you think that your uncle was aware that you weren't crazy?" Severus asked, recalling that subject.

"Because he knew why I was acting the way I was. Aunt Petunia was an idiot, and hated me. Everyone, after that, told me that I had to be confined here, because I was seeing things."

Dear Merlin, that conversation was only confusing Snape more and more.

"And how were you acting?"

"I was only telling them what I saw, heard and felt."

"And you think you shouldn't be here?"

"I don't really know. It's not as though someone gives a damn about me, so it doesn't matter if I am sane or not. There's no one to care, and there's no one to expect anything from me either."

Severus frowned. That answer showed that Potter didn't seem to have too much regard for himself. Harry's certainty that no one in the world cared to know if he was mad or not unsettled the man.

"If you are sane as you claim to be, why do you keep acting like you have been for all these years?"

Potter stared at his hands and bit his lower lip. He seemed to be fighting an inner battle - to answer or not to answer... Finally, after some minutes of pathetic silence, the boy looked at him and laughed.

"Perhaps I like doing this, to mess with people's brains."

Arrogant brat.

"So you think it is funny to make psychiatrists and nurses waste their time on you?"

Potter shrugged and got back to staring at his hands.

"I didn't ask for their attention, did I?"

Snape snorted. That conversation wasn't going to lead them anywhere. The brat was infuriating... And he needed to ask things that _mattered_.

"Did you antagonise every psychiatrist and nurse like you did with Dr. Neesson and the two nurses that committed suicide?"

"No," Potter replied quickly. "I don't really mind the psychiatrists as long as they don't bother me"

"And he bothered you?"

Potter laughed hysterically at that question, the sound horrible, frightening. It clearly was the laugh of a madman.

"You could say he did; all of them, actually."

Severus shook his head. The boy had killed three people because they 'bothered' him. Harry Potter was dangerous, and Dumbledore wanted him to bring that green-eyed menace to Hogwarts... It was ludicrous.

"Arrogant, aren't we, Potter? Deciding who lives and who dies based on the amount of entertainment they provide to you."

Potter, then, looked at Severus with wide and wild eyes. He rubbed his arms, embracing himself; his hands slightly trembled. Right then Severus thought that perhaps his comment didn't help any, and from Harry's reaction, he might have hit a nerve. But he keep on, nonetheless.

"Isn't that right, Mr. Potter, you said yourself that most people were _boring_... Did you attack them to have some fun?"

Hypocrite, aren't you now, Severus Snape? A former Death Eater criticizing a fifteen year old that used some kind of dark mind magic? Should I remind you who caused his parents' - Lily's - deaths? Must I tell you that you carry part of the blame because this boy is stuck on this mental institution? Even if he is indeed crazy, Lily would have never abandoned her son, and he would be well cared.

Deciding that his aggressive behavior wouldn't be of any help, Severus softened his voice when he spoke again.

"Why did you do that to them?"

"Because..." Harry began, but then seemed to change his mind, shuting his mouth and watching Severus with cold eyes. "It's not your business," he added later.

"I see," Snape dryly spoke. He eyed the parchment with the list of questions; since his interrogation didn't quite went how he'd planned, Severus chose a random question.

"Ms. Smith told me that there are drawings on the walls. I can't see them... Do you create an illusion for them to see? The drawings don't exist, do they?"

"No, they just see what I want them to see," and then Potter muttered something under his breath, Severus thought it was 'as they always do', but he couldn't be sure.

For some seconds Severus considered dropping his mental shields - part of them, at least - but if Potter tried anything harmful there was a risk that things got out of hand... He wanted to see the drawings. The idea that some part of Voldemort's magic was guiding the boy was disturbing. Perhaps the drawings could tell him something...

The boy looked defensive, which was odd. One would think that Potter would fear nothing, but his posture and words betrayed him sometimes.

Could it be that Potter's cold - and daresay bloodthirsty - demeanor was a piece of Voldemort's personality? The defensive boy was the part left untouched by such an evil presence?

Dear Merlin! He definitely had approached the boy in the wrong way. Potter must be feeling trapped on his own mind... Of course, it was only a theory, but...

He felt a tingling of magic... His vow. The damned vow. His vow to protect Lily Evans' son. Now that Severus was aware of Potter the vow would demand him to act. And that meant that the teenager was, indeed, in danger; if it was because of any Voldemort's remainder, they would have to wait - and research - and see.

"Tell me something, Mr. Potter," Severus spoke in a softer voice, but the boy wasn't paying attention, instead he was lost - probably in his own particular world - staring at a spot on the wall behind Snape. "Potter!"

Harry snapped out of his daze, eyes locked with Severus' and then he tried to attack. The older already expected this - the way Potter looked at him with intensity made the teen's intentions clear. His shields were firm in place. The pressure grew stronger. He could seize the attempted intrusion at any moment, of course, but part of him wanted to know how powerful Potter was.

In the middle of Harry's brows there were some drops of sweat, and he was panting - Severus was too, though he didn't notice it. The man, then, decided to attack too - wanting to test Potter's skill in both mind arts.

Damn it. A wall - that was how Severus would describe Harry's mind - an impenetrable wall. He imagined that the feeling of legilimizing Dumbledore would be like that. He gave up on that, and averted his eyes from Potter's, ceasing their little battle.

"How do you do this, Mr. Snape?" Potter asked as though Legilimency was his own creation.

"How do_ you_?"

Potter shrugged - what an atrocious habit...

"You are not a psychiatrist," he said, ignoring the question. "You could have told me, you know. I don't usually like them, I would probably rather that you weren't one; though, of course, this would raise the question about what do you want with me... Tell me something, do you usually enter on other people's mind easily, or is it only mine that you can't invade?"

"There are some people who have their mind protected," Snape said. Soon he would have to talk about magic, so there was no reason to pretend that what Harry could do was something new or abnormal - granted, mind magic was considered borderline dark and only a few mastered it, but it was a formal branch of magic, at least.

"Really?" Potter looked interested in the conversation. Perhaps Severus really should stop with the personal questions. "So there are more people like you and me?"

"I can think of some," Severus replied - 'some' included Dumbledore and the deceased Dark Lord.

"I knew there was something different in me," Harry quietly said. _Yes, like a shard of one of the most evil wizards of Wizarding History infecting your mind and making you torment people to the point of insanity, perhaps?_

It was odd, Potter at one minute was defensive, and in the other he talked personal things - and that time Snape hadn't asked for that. He was undeniably _unstable_.

"Since when do you know you are different, and what, exactly, makes you different from other people?" Severus asked; certainly the boy had experienced some form of accidental magic during his childhood.

"Bad things." was the dry boy's reply.

Bad things, indeed. But they weren't bad because of the reason Severus imagined.

After that Severus found it appropriated to leave. The brutal legilimency he attempted and Potter's attack on his own shields left him with a headache.

This time, when he was closing Potter's door, Severus saw an odd look on he boy's green eyes. He couldn't quite decipher what that meant, and that was unnerving. To be honest, Potter was unnerving.

.

Harry curled on his bed and was immerse in thoughts. His plan was working just fine - Mr. Snape assumed that he was only an evil boy... Probably was already proclaiming him the Devil like a lot of people did - those who thought Harry didn't know they called him that.

He had a headache, a bad one. It started after he tried - again - to look on Snape's head. Hell, he needed to know what were the man's intentions. Was he there to hurt Harry too? Well, usually the people who liked that would already have done something...

Snape told him that there were more people like him - them - and Harry wondered if these people wanted to save him. Yes, sometimes he still dreamed of being rescued. He would give some hints on the next time the man came to see him. If Snape could read minds too, them he would see what happened in that clinic.

The problem was: Harry was exactly fond of the idea of anyone actually seeing him losing control like when someone touched or hit him. He couldn't help, something on his mind just snapped and he ended crying, asking, pleading, even.

Harry's eyes began to drop, and he welcomed sleep to flee from the pain on his head.

When he woke up, it was late night - he guessed - and that man was there, Harry could feel it. There was a blindfold on his eyes.

_Oh God, please not again. Please._

But there was no one to listen his prayers.

A gag was put on his mouth. He tried to squirm, only then noticing that he was restrained. Harry groaned and tried to scream, to ask.

He was little again, and Uncle Vernon is kicking him, telling hat he is a bad boy, that he is alone and doesn't deserve to be loved. Aunt Petunia is watching everything in silence, she seems to be conflicted by the scene. There is a shocked expression on her face, but then she turns away and leaves.

And Harry is alone with Uncle Vernon. And his whole little body hurts, and he is dizzy. He can feel drops of spit falling on his face because the whale of man is shouting. This is disgusting.

And Harry asks for Uncle Vernon to stop, crying and promising that he will be good. But it isn't enough. It never is.

He is trying to scream. He wants his eyes to be free. Only a second, it's all he needs, a second to look on that man's eyes and make him stop. Because of the gag, his screams die on his mouth, but he makes sounds - grunts leave his throat. They sound hoarse and a bit like an animal. A pillow is pressed against his face, trying to silence him.

_Please. Please. Please. I will do anything if you stop. Anything. Oh God, it hurts! _

He feels the man's cock thrusting into him, ripping his insides. How could it be that the pain doesn't ease with time? It has happened so many times that Harry wonders if somewhen he will not hurt like that.

"You like that, don't you?" the man says and Harry tries to shake his head. "I don't know what kind of abnormal thing you are, but I must admit that you have your uses. Dr. Neesson was my friend, you know?" a more vicious thrust "And you killed him."

The man is panting and thrusting into Harry faster now, and the boy knows soon it will end. The pillow in pulled out of his face some times - his tormentor doesn't want him to pass out, after all.

"It is most fortunate that everybody here hates you. They can barely tolerate you... Some even thought about ending your pitiful life. No one would notice it... And no one cares about what I am doing." the man laughs after that - laughters cut by a gasp and a grunt. Harry feels hot liquid being spurted inside him. A few more thrusts and the man leaves Harry there.

The boy feels something on his arse - oh yes, cleaning. The man cleans him and removes the gag an then the blindfold.

When Harry opened his eyes the man had his back turned to him. He knew to avoid the teen's eyes. The he walked away and Harry sighed, relieved.

A tear ran down Harry's face. No one cared. No one.

He needed to get out of there.

**You must be wondering why Harry's accidental magic never helped him. Well, this is something that will be explained later.**


	3. Façade of Reality

**Chapter 3 – Façade of Reality**

On Snape's third visit to Harry Potter Albus Dumbledore decided that he should be here as well, to judge if the boy indeed was a menace once brought to Hogwarts. As soon as both wizards got in Harry's room, the mind of the older one was attacked as it was expected.

Much to Severus' horror, Albus didn't fight the intrusion. Blue and emerald eyes were locked together for some good minutes, and in the end Dumbledore looked around at the walls. Severus was sure that Albus had finally gone crazy... Just because you are the most powerful wizard alive, it didn't mean that you should just submit yourself to an unstable teenager with a curious control on a rare and dangerous branch of magic.

"Why do you do this, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly, still glancing at the walls.

"What is your name?" the boy said instead of answering.

"Oh, forgive me. I am Albus Dumbledore, a–"

"Someone who will pretend to be a psychiatrist, but that just like Mr. Snape is not. I wonder what the lot of you want with me," Harry spoke in a calm voice, staring intently at Dumbledore. "You could be honest with me, I would appreciate very much."

Albus sighed and stroked his beard. Snape snorted, knowing that they would need to explain magic to the boy.

"How much do you know about your parents, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore questioned.

Harry immediately became angry, his face turned into a mask of rage.

"I know enough about them," he said staring at Dumbledore. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I have to explain a few things to you, issues that involve your parents, in order for you to understand why I am here."

Harry narrowed his eyes and bit his cheek.

"Do you know them?"

"I knew them, Harry."

"Knew?" Harry asked, visibly curious. "Do you mean that they're dead?"

Instantly, both Snape and Dumbledore looked unease. So the boy didn't know that his parents died years ago... What did he "knew" about James and Lily, then?

"Yes, unfortunat–"

"Good riddance!" Harry said, smiling, Dumbledore visibly flinched at the blunt words spilled from the teen's mouth. Snape, even shocked for hearing that did not react. "Pity I did not have the opportunity to talk with them before their deaths," he maliciously added. "Did they suffer?" he finally asked, and from everything Harry had already said, and from his tone, it was clear that he wished his parents' deaths to be the worst possible.

Albus stroked his beard, looking uncertain of what to say next. Harry Potter surely had some misguided impressions about his own parents, and only Merlin knew how hard it would be to clear those.

"No, they did not suffer – at least not physically," Albus said calmly. "But I am sure that they did suffer a lot psychologically and emotionally in their last moments. It must be very hard to die unaware of your child's future, knowing that you're possibly the only one capable of protecting such important gift."

Dumbledore's words were said with good intention, but they seemed to only cause more hate on the boy, who had clenched his hands in fists so hard that the knuckles were white.

"I can imagine how hard it is," Harry said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "The kid, did it die too?"

"No, their son did not die."

"Pity," Potter spoke with contempt and genuine sadness.

Severus was almost losing his patience with Dumbledore. Clearly Potter thought that his parents had had another child, and if his reaction was anything to go by, that they had abandoned him. They needed to correct those misconceptions before proceeding on the conversation, but Dumbledore didn't look much worried about that.

"You are this child they died trying to protect, Potter," Snape said.

"Oh, please," Harry said laughing "I know that you're lying. You lied before," he said, accusingly "You were lying before. The difference is that now I _know_ how a filthy liar you are, and I know that what you are talking could _never_ be true."

Snape took a deep breath. Being called "a filthy liar" wasn't exactly something that made him like Potter, but he knew that the boy _had _some serious problems, and snapping would do no good. Dumbledore was looking at him with a warning gaze.

"I confess that telling you I was a psychiatrist wasn't honest of me," Severus said. "But I am not lying about your parents."

"Yes, dear boy," Albus suddenly added, "I can assure you that your parents died protecting you."

Harry gave Dumbledore a look so full of dark amusement that for a moment Severus remembered the way the Dark Lord looked at every person he deemed inferior (everybody) or stupid.

"And you suppose that your assurance means something to me, I take," he asked bluntly. "I don't know who are you, and you actually came here to defend my parents. Sorry, but whatever you say does not matter to me."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, not looking offended even in the slightest by Potter's insults. "Tell me then, Harry, what you know about your parents."

Potter's face actually lit up at the request. Severus' curiosity peeked up at that. The boy did not like his parents, why would he like to talk about them?

"My father was a drug dealer, he met my mother selling her a dose of cocaine, I would conclude that she whored herself for drugs," he shrugged the shoulders and continued, with a nasty smile on his lips "he was a bastard, and she an idiot. They moved together, only God knows why, and at some point I was born. Obviously, I wasn't the most cherished of kids, so my mother had the brilliant idea of giving me to her sister, the bitch." he paused, eyeing both Severus and Albus from hair to toes and asked, grinning "Are you involved with traffic too? You do look like an addicted," he told Dumbledore "and you have all the qualms of someone who does the _dirty work_, if you know what I mean," he finished looking at Snape, who took a deep breath and looked at Dumbledore as if asking for assistance.

"No, Harry, we are not involved with drugs." Dumbledore paused, looking ill for everything he'd just heard. "Tell me, Harry, you do know that you can do some _different_ things, don't you?"

Harry eyed the old wizard carefully and tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. "Unnatural things?" he asked and didn't even wait for an answer. "I like to play with some... Things."

"These things you are talking about are what we," Albus said pointing at himself and Severus "call magic."

Harry threw his head backwards and laughed, and it was a really amused laughter. "Magic?" he questioned, disdain dripping from his voice.

"Yes, Harry." Albus said and took his wand and a rock from inside his robes, waved it and transfigured the rock into a napkin. "Magic," he repeated. "You've done something like this before, haven't you?"

Potter hesitated for some seconds, and when he opened his mouth he didn't answer, but asked another question.

"The mind tricks I can use, are they magic too?"

"Yes, you use two types of what is called Mind Magic. Tell me then Harry, did I convince you that Magic is real?"

"I would be daft if I denied the possibility of its existence right after what you showed me, and after everything I did. I believe you too are capable of doing magic?" he asked Snape.

"Obviously." He replied sardonically "Or have you ever seen anyone else able to keep you out of their minds?"

"Oh, yes, it does make sense... So how many people are able to do magic?"

"There are hundreds of millions of wizards and witches around the world." Dumbledore replied and Potter's face lit up a bit.

"And why are you two interested in me?" Harry questioned, his demeanour was again cautious.

"You see, Harry... You lived with your relatives before they left you here, right? All of those things they told you about your parents are lies. Do you even know their names?"

"Dumbledore, right?" Harry asked and Dumbledore nodded. "So, Mr. Dumbledore, I really don't care about them... For so much time I believed my relatives lied to me, but as the years passed I _understood_ that they were telling me the truth. Much to my discontentment time proved my uncle and aunt right."

Albus looked at Severus, a silent plea on his eyes. The old man wanted Snape to tell Harry that he knew his parents. It wasn't going to happen, even though Severus' rational side argued that the boy was Lily's son, his emotional part was obsessive when it came about her memories... And as for James Potter, well, Severus didn't really think it would be healthy to talk about him, it certainly wouldn't help an iota.

"Your parents weren't involved with drugs, they weren't even muggles - it is the name we wizards use to call he non-magical people," Albus explained when Harry looked confused. "James Potter was a very brave wizard, and Lily Potter a very talented witch. Severus was a good friend of your mother."

Severus snorted. Leave it to Dumbledore to blurt out to the unstable brat that Lily had been his friend. Couldn't the man respect Snape's wishes and _shut up_ about that?

Harry's eyes, only for a moment, were filled with hope while Dumbledore talked about his parents. Severus understood that, and he could even relate to the emotions the boy must be feeling at that moment. How many times had he wanted to believe something better to?

"Those were their names?" Harry asked, all emotion gone, his voice cold as though he was asking technical details of a process. "How did they die?"

"Well, this brings us to the question about why we are looking for you. Harry, before you were born there was a dark, evil wizard called Voldemort who wanted to rule the Brittish magical world. This wizard had servants, the called Death Eaters, who liked - as he himself - to terrorize people. In 1980 a prophecy was made, a prophecy that talked about a boy born at the end of July, son of people who had thrice defied Voldemort, and who would be the one to defeat him."

Severus locked himself in a part of his own mind. Albus was basically telling the boy about how he had caused Lily's death.

"Unfortunately, this prophecy reached Voldemort's ears, and he obviously began to hunt the family of the boy. As you might guess, this boy was you, Harry. In the Halloween of 1981 he attacked your family's home and killed both your mother and father. He tried to kill you to, but he did not suceed, instead, he died. You are known as the Boy-Who-Lived because of this, and you freed our world from this menace."

Potter was biting his cheek, seeming to be struggling with something. They remained in silence for long minutes, until Potter looked at Dumbledore with intensity. "Can you prove what you just told me?"

Albus nodded, understanding that Harry knew how to look for lies using Legilimency. Severus sighed, for it was obvious that Dumbledore didn't care at all for his own safety.

"See for yourself, Harry."

When the connection between Harry and Dumbledore ended for the second time on that day, the teen looked deeply disturbed. He hugged himself and rested his chin on the knees, staring blankly.

"Potter?" Snape called. "Potter?" he tried again, but there was no response.

Dumbledore waved his wand, casting a non-verbal _Legilimens_, and that did get a reaction from the boy.

"GET OUT!" he shouted. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD, GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

Dumbledore flinched, he and Severus were bewildered because of the boy's explosion.

"Get out, go away. I hate you both! Go," he repeated, more to himself. "GET OUT!"

It was an interesting thing, though, the fact that even at that strongly emotional episode there was no liberation of magic in the air. It was very commom for a wizard's or witch's magic to lash out when they felt particularly nervous.

"Go, please, go..."

At that moment there was a knock on the door. "Are you alright? I heard shouts," Ms. Smith asked when she opened the door and took a look on the distressed patient. "I think he is not in condition to continue this conversation," she added, looking overly protective on that moment.

"Yes, I agree, Ms. Smith. We are just leaving," Albus replied politely.

Severus and Albus left the room, but the woman was there for some minutes, trying to calm the child, probably.

"What did you show him?" Snape hissed.

"I didn't show him anything, Severus, especially not what you are thinking. Really, do you think I would show Harry that it was you who told Voldemort about the Prophecy? I think you knew me better than that." Dumbledore actually looked hurt. "I only let him feel that what I was talking was true."

Severus was still suspicious. "I don't understand. He said that he hates us, both of us. Why would he say that?"

Albus didn't have an answer.

.

The man was telling the truth!

His parents did not abandon him. Petunia lied to him.

It felt heavy on his heart to learn that... The man was telling the truth, Harry had learned over the years how to notice when someone was lying.

James and Lily... Those were their names.

But they were dead... And for all those years he'd hated them so much, so deeply... He almost wanted to hate them for dying now, but they died trying to protect him - it was what the man told him.

He was really an unworthy boy, who soiled everything.

Harry couldn't bear to be in the presence of anyone right now, and that's why he shouted, trying to make the men leave as soon as possible. He needed to be alone to think.

Ms. Smith came and gave him a tranquilizing, Harry felt the artificial peace filling him, until he fell asleep.

When he woke up, with a blindfold on his eyes and in the company of that same repulsive man on the room, Harry immediately recalled what he had learned earlier; how his life had been a lie and how much disgrace he had caused. He almost felt that he deserved what was going to happen.


End file.
